


Love For My Insane Lover

by ViciousInnocence



Category: Lollipop Chainsaw
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Dubious Consent, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousInnocence/pseuds/ViciousInnocence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lewis put Zed on edge in way nobody else had ever been able to do. Like his presence was the sharp blade of a knife and Zed wanted to bleed; he’d never had great self-preservation skills."</p><p>Chapter story of Lewis/Zed; because the world needs it. Sorry I'm awful at summaries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Named after the game soundtrack "Love For My Insane Lover", because I'm unimaginative and I feel like it describes Lewis/Zed perfectly to me.
> 
> SHOUTOUT to "April", "Ivy", Stellar_Shiva, "Moona" and Xyclaim564 for your kind words and encouragement. I won't lie you're all the reason why I wrote this and am teasing this chapter <3 ENJOY.

“What do you think of them?” Josey asked, nodding his head towards the pub they were currently stood outside, music pounding from the heavy drum beats of a local band.  
  
Mariska lit up a cigarette before passing the lighter back to its owner. She tilted her head back slightly and took a long drag. Gently blowing the smoke up into the air from her mouth, as the flame from the lighter sparked up again, lighting the cigarette in between Zeds long fingers.  
  
She turned to look at Josey,  
  
”They make me wanna gag,” she replied, wrinkling her nose up a little, tapping the ash off the end of her cigarette and hugging her tatty parka coat closer to her body with her free arm.  
  
”They got rhythm but no soul, no fire,” she described, before raising the cigarette to her lips and taking another drag, turning to look at Zed.  
  
The punk looked back to his two close friends, both of them staring straight into his eyes.  
  
”The fuck are you staring at me for?” he snarled, smoke coming out of his nose as he exhaled, quickly taking another sharp drag,  
  
”Just because I wanted to check ‘em out didn’t mean you two fuckers had to come with me,” he continued. Josey chuckled a little while a small smile spread across Mariska’s face and she tilted her head back to blow more smoke into the night sky.

The trio were currently stood under a streetlamp outside the small pub near the centre town where the three of them lived around and frequently orbited. The light wasn’t too bright, it provided a dim yellow glow, which only just managed to illuminate most of their facial features and made Zeds usually obnoxiously red mohawk appear to be a deep crimson.  
  
Josey shifted slightly so he was leaning against the streetlamp,  
  
”Well I’m done with this shit-hole, I’m ready to go back to yours,” the dreadlocked man said, gesturing to Mariska.  
  
”You just say the word and I’ll follow, this crap is giving me a headache,” he finished, drinking some red wine from the glass in his hand, it wasn’t the standard drink for a pub night, but Josey couldn’t stand beer…unlike Zed who was on his seventh pint in just under two hours.  
  
Mariska shrugged, the cigarette still burning away between her fingers as she shook her head a little to free some of her long greasy hair which had become caught on her coat.  
  
”Sorry Zed but I’m done too, when Jose has finished his drink, we’re gone,” she said apologetically.  
  
”This ain’t my kind of gig,” Josey apologised to Zed who just shrugged.  
  
”Fuck! If you’re both gonna bitch this much about it, then I’ll fucking go with you. This band can’t play for shit anyway,” the punk said, downing half of the beer from the pint glass in his right hand, as Mariska grinned.  
  
”Awhhh Zed, I knew you’d come around,” she drawled happily.  
  
“I’ve got some real heavy stuff I want to try out, and shit’s always more fun with my brothers,” she said affectionately and Zed took another drink, rolling his eyes, Mariska and her precious hallucinogens. The plan for the night had been to get high at the hippies apartment anyway; just after the gig. Zed hated heading back before midnight, in his opinion, it was the sign of a shit night.  
  
”Hey Mari, manage to get your hands on any blow?” Josey asked the long-haired woman and Zed made a small displeased grunt as the topic of conversation shifted back to drugs. The redhead had nothing against them, and thanks to his choice of close friends, he was almost constantly surrounded by them and he would never say no to free drugs…he just didn’t feel the same addiction and devotion to them as his two friends. Alcohol, more specifically; beer, solved Zeds need for escapism, and mosh pits. Zed had a thing for getting bloody and bruised in them too, something which neither Josey nor Mariska could understand.  
  
Suddenly, Zed heard the door of the pub open as the music grew louder for a brief five seconds, before the door shut and once again the tuneless noise became muffled. A man clad in tight leather stepped out and down the step, out onto the street near them, Mariska and Josey hadn’t even turned to see who it was, they were too engaged in their conversation. Zed however, knew he was staring as he looked him up and down.  
  
The man's black hair was slicked into a pompadour, and the dim light of the streetlamp a few metres away from him, showed off his angular face. He wore a thick leather jacket, with half of his tattooed chest exposed, either wearing an extremely low vest top underneath or nothing at all. Skin tight leather trousers stretched over his toned thighs and legs.  
  
Zed snorted a little, watching the guy pull a cigarette from his pocket. While Zed could fully appreciate the figure in front of him, he knew an arrogant asshole when he saw one. Dolled up in his black leather. What a joke. As Zed took another mouthful of his beer, he watched the man a few metres away patting himself down in search of a lighter, as he did so the rocker must’ve felt eyes on him, because he froze and turned his head to lock eyes with the punk. They stayed like that for a short space of a few seconds, the unlit cigarette hanging limply out of the raven-haired mans dark lips while Zed shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the strangers piercing eyes boring into his own. He then quickly became irritated, refusing to be intimidated by the other, he showed him his middle finger, the burning cigarette and lighter hanging between his fingers.  
  
The next thing that happened, Zed unmistakeably saw the other man smirk, even in the dim yellow light, before removing the unlit cigarette from his mouth and begin to walk over. The punk frowned and felt his teeth grind together, when did he invite this bastard over? He lowered his left hand a little and stopped making the offensive gesture.  
  
As the black-haired man got nearer, Zed took another mouthful of beer, swallowing and opening his mouth to speak, only to be cut off.  
  
”Hey babe, can I borrow your lighter?” his deep voice drawled.  
  
Zed froze and felt his eye twitch slightly, his mouth still hanging open as the words he was going to say had died on his tongue about the same time he’d apparently been hit on by the guy in front of him.  
  
For some reason his body wasn’t moving and he remained frozen for another few seconds, staring vacantly into the space over the leather-clad rockers shoulder. He could feel something stirring in him and he wasn’t sure how to react. The black-haired man himself folded his hands and raised an eyebrow at Zed, wondering if he was ok.  
  
By now the other two had stopped having their conversation and had turned their attention to the stranger who had addressed their volatile friend with such an effeminate pet name.  
  
While Josey was currently biting his cheeks to stop himself laughing out loud, Mariska took the initiative, plucking Zeds lighter from the punks hands and clicking on the flame for the new-comer to light his cigarette on. The leather-clad man lit his smoke on the flame and took a drag before turning to Mariska and flashing her a grin, nodding his head in appreciation.  
  
Suddenly a hand shot out in front of him as Zed stopped spacing out and grabbed his lighter from the long-haired hippy.  
  
”Who the fuck do you think you are?” the redhead snarled at the man currently smoking the cigarette between his lips, replacing the lighter firmly back into the pocket of his leather vest.  
  
The black haired man chuckled, smoke coming out of his mouth.  
  
”Name’s Lewis, thanks for the light, Red,” his smooth voice replied. Zed dropped the cigarette, thrusting his beer at Josey who managed to get hold of it before it fell to the ground. Zedd stepped into the others personal space, pointing to his face,  
  
”DON’T CALL ME THAT SHIT,” he threatened, feeling like a vein was popping out on his pale forehead as he swore up close in the other's face, his grey slate eyes burning. Yet the man inches away from him had a playful smile on his dark lips…was he…wearing lipstick?  
  
“Didn’t mean to offend,” the man said, finding time to take a quick drag from his cigarette, Zeds eyes now getting distracted by the man’s long black nails and heavy metal rings. The rocker continued with a smirk, relishing the fact the other man couldn’t stop staring at him, smoke rolling into the others face as he spoke,  
  
“Cute when you’re angry”, Zed flinched, as he felt a hand snaking round his side to rest on his bicep.  
  
Sirens went off in his head and before he knew what was happening he’d slapped the man in front of him and took a step back, a small blush burning on his face. His eyes were wide as they stared at the leather-clad man in front of him who had turned away slightly and was currently rubbing his bright red cheek where the punk had slapped him.  
  
Zed felt himself shrink a little, he’d meant to punch him, he’d definitely meant to punch him…why the fuck had he slapped him like a dumb bitch? Mariska, who had been watching everything unfold, now looked from the strange leather-clad man back to her friend Zed. She raised her eyebrows at him and pulling a face asking; What the fuck was that? Zed just stared back, he was trying to comprehend the situation himself, this had never really happened before. Nobody had ever voluntarily approached Zedd before, nobody else had the balls to hit on him. Let alone make him feel so nervous; the feeling was completely alien to him.  
  
”Fuck, are you hitting on me?” Zed accidently blurted out, as the other man turned back round to face him, taking another drag from his cigarette.

  
”No shit…” Josey muttered from the sidelines, sipping his wine, clearly amused with this interaction, Lewis snickered quietly.  
  
”Totally,” his voice dropped into a low key and Zed felt a rush of nerves, in turn making him panic further; he was never the one who got nervous. Distantly he heard someone shouting Lewis’ name and he watched the latter turn and wave to the small group of guys walking on the other side of the street.

“I’ll see you round, babe,” he promised, giving a small wave to the punk, the pair exchanging one last look - which seemed to last longer than it did in reality - before turning his back to the trio and walking off down the street, heels clicking on the stone floor as he went.

Zed just stared with his mouth shut, teeth grinding behind his pursed lips and knuckles white from how hard he was tensed up clenching his fists. While he felt embarrassed, and ok slightly turned on, over the encounter, he felt angry more than anything – Zed always felt angry more than anything. As Lewis neared his group of friends Zed managed to read a patch stitched to the back of his leather jacket; ‘Elephant Rock’, then he was gone up the street, under the cover of the darkness, leaving the trio once again alone with the amateur tunes of the local band.  
  
A heavy hand clapped him on the shoulder;  
  
”Well done Zed – another successful interaction with a human being,” Zed didn’t need to turn to see check who it was, he knew Joseys smug voice like the back of his hand.  
  
”Fuck you…and fuck him – fucking cocksucker,” Zed growled, roughly smacking Joseys hand off him and turning to grab what was left of his beer from Mariska, who’d ended up holding it. As he held the glass, Mariska refused to let go, the punk tugged on it a few times before stomping one foot on the floor and looking up into Mariskas eyes. He was frustrated and needed more booze god damn it.  
  
”He was hot, did you not see that?” she asked, letting go of the drink once she’d asked her question. Zed, turned away towards the streetlamp, quickly downing the beer and launching the glass at the floor, not caring as much as he had done before about breaking it. Of course he had noticed Lewis was fucking hot. Though he wasn't about to admit it, especially when the other was clearly so arrogant. The small glass shards glinted in the light and caught Zeds attention.  
  
”Babe! He called me fucking BABE! I’m not a motherfucking chick!” he raged, kicking a large shard of glass across the street, he didn’t deny that the man was attractive, but nobody in the right mind would hit on Zed like that, so upfront…and with such a humiliating pet name.  
  
”Arrogant motherfucker,” Zed growled under his breath, loud enough so the other two could hear, but not loud enough to make it sound as if it were anything more than a passing comment. He heard Mariska snort behind him.  
  
”I’d have got his number,” Josey commented behind him, flashing a grin at the woman, earning another small laugh from Mariska.  
  
”He looked like a lotta fun,” she agreed, smirking to herself as she saw Zed now trembling with rage. Zed was their friend but it was always fun to see how far you could push him.  
  
”FUUUUCCCCKKK,” he yelled, turning round to the other two, shooting them both glares.  
  
”I thought you wanted to leave? Let’s fucking go, ok?” he snapped, before turning and walking away from the pub in the direction of Mariskas flat. It's not like he could have done anything with Lewis anyway; he'd come and gone in the space of five minutes. Zed was not some kind of love-struck teen who would chase anyone, but he found his mind oddly captivated by the brief encounter. Pulling out another cigarette as he walked, hearing the click of his two friends boots behind him he sighed before pulling the lighter out of his pocket. He inspected it a little in his hand, it brought back the recent image of Lewis in his mind. Shamefully Zed felt himself flare up again inside, with nerves, followed by an irritated confusion. He felt like that wasn't going to be the last time he saw that face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo...so yeah I've been "working on" this for like 3 years lol I kept putting it on the back-burner (or just forgetting about it), due to other fandoms and stuff in my life :| So I'm sorry because I know I've been saying for years I was writing this. It's STILL not finished but hopefully I will be making more of an effort to remedy that. I'm only going to post a new chapter once I've written the next one, so hopefully it should stop me leaving it unfinished; because that's a fear. 
> 
> AND I KNOW; it's not explicit yet, but believe me it will be. And I am planning on trying to include as many game characters in it as possible eventually; just cause I want to c:
> 
> ANYWAY. Hope you liked it; if you want to leave me comments and kudos, please do, I will love all over them c:


	2. Chapter 2

The thrash metal gig ended without an encore, though the fans were left chanting at the stage, screaming for more. Eventually they realised the night was over, beginning to disperse and exit the arena, heading for the after-parties. Many still grinning and jumping around a little, fuelled by the adrenaline of the mosh pit and alcohol. Zed was also one of those still buzzing with energy, walking out of there with a guy he’d recently met near the front of the arena. His new company was a total metalhead, unlike Zed, though the punk could respect it. He had that look which screamed don’t-fucking-touch-me. People like that in a mosh pit were simply begging Zed to full on punch them in the face. He’d been a lot of fun to go against and had left each other now covered in sweat, blood, alcohol and bruises; standard.  
  
Zed had lost his pack of fags and lighter in the adrenaline rush of jumping and punching his way through the crowd, but his new found friend had a pack and he promised that his friend would have a lighter, they just needed to find him,which hopefully wouldn’t be too hard, the arena lights were still on and lot of the crowd had already left to try and get out of the park early, leaving them a relatively clear line of vision.  
  
”It’s been a while since I’ve come out with a few bruises,” Vikke stated enthusiastically, as the two of them walked back out through the dispersing crowd.  
  
”That pit was fucking insane, you’re crazy,” Zed grinned, still buzzing off the energy and jumping a little in his step. His body aching as he practically bounced in his steps.  
  
”Maybe we’re both crazy,” Vikke laughed amused, wiping some sweat-drenched black hair from his pale face, before the topic of conversation shifted to the band  they’d been to see. It had been Zeds first time seeing them live, he’d been a long-term fan, just always been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or had the wrong amount of cash, and successfully missed all of their gigs. Vikke on the other hand was an avid metal fan and had seen the band at least five times before. Music meant a lot to Zed and he could appreciate anyone who felt the same, he’d only known Vikke for less than an hour yet he already felt he knew that the metalhead for longer.  
  
”-LEWIS.”  
  
Zed was suddenly cut off mid-thought as the black-haired metalhead yelled to someone over his shoulder to the left, waving to get his attention.  
  
”Found him,” Vikke explained to Zed, continuing to wave and look over in the direction his friend was in. Zed turned around and what he saw made him do a double take.  
  
Standing a few metres away from them was the black-haired greaser he’d met a few weeks ago, the one which had the nerve to hit on him and call him ‘babe’. He looked to be wearing a similar outfit than the first time he’d seen him, apart from now he looked a little rougher round the edges, probably from being in a pit similar to Zed. His hair was still in tact although this time a few strands were falling about on his face, despite the amount of gel or spray that was impossibly holding it up. The way his black hair hung loosely over his pale face made Zed’s chest feel tense, and he realised he was staring. As soon as Zed had turned to look at him, Vikke had begun to walk over, the punk quickly moving with him in order to not fall behind. Once the leather-clad rocker had spotted Zed, his eyes raked over him, the punk feeling hairs stand up on his neck; he felt like he was being stripped naked under the other’s stare. Meeting Zed’s eyes at last, a smug smirk bloomed across his face, serving only to agitate the former.  
  
Irritation sparked within Zed and he glared back, if this guy thought things were going to go down similar to that night a few weeks ago, he was sorely mistaken. Out of all the possible places and times he could’ve bumped into the other man he wouldn’t have picked this one. To be honest, as the days and weeks dragged on since their last encounter, Zed had kind of forgotten he existed and assumed they’d never cross paths again. Yet here they were now, face to face, barely a metre between them again, Zed quickly noticed how hot his skin was: it matched the tense air around them.  
  
”Lewis, I thought I’d lost you,” Vikke greeted his friend and clapped him on the shoulder, before turning and gesturing to Zed.  
  
”Meet Zed,” the metalhead said, introducing the punk to his friend, though Zed sneered at Lewis first.  
  
”I’ve met you before,” the punk snarled, before looking away to his right and ramming his hands into the pockets of his leather vest. Vikke looked to the punk, a surprised look on his face before he looked back to Lewis again, meeting his eyes for a brief second.  
  
”Oh, you know each other?” he asked his friend, to which Lewis returned his attention to Zed, who was now kicking the ground and looking around at the stadium with apparent fascination.  
  
“Mmm, of course we do,” Lewis confirmed, making Zed freeze up a little and his jaw lock in place as he shot a death glare in the others direction. Lewis shot him a lecherous look in return, a black spark of mischief in his eyes. Vikke meanwhile missed the tension between the other two’s gaze and shrugged,  
  
”Cool,” he smiled, before he turned back to his old friend,  
  
”We need a light,” he said simply, gesturing with his hand between himself and Zed. Lewis let out a breath of laughter, turning back to Vikke.  
  
”That’s how Zed and I first met actually,” the rocker purred in his smooth voice, as if the two had been long-term friends. Zedd had to call upon all his strength not to start grinding his teeth.

“We met one time,” he snarled nastily, not wanting Lewis to gain any control over this situation. He almost regretted it when Vikke glanced at him with a shocked look on his face, clearly sensing the tension now.

Lewis began searching for his lighter, a purely irritating air of smugness still about him. Zed floundered for a second under Vikke’s stare, the awkward tension of his comment weighing down on him.

“Good to see you again,” he ground out towards Lewis, bitterly making use of his poor social skills, not wanting to completely sour his new friendship with Vikke. Either deciding to ignore the salty tone of Zed’s voice, or just not picking up on it, the metalhead grinned.

“Small world, small world,” he mumbled, accepting the lighter from Lewis, cupping a hand round the cigarette he was lighting in between his lips.

Zed flinched as Lewis’ arm bumped against his own, he looked down to see the other offering him a cigarette. He was gasping for a smoke but he didn’t want to accept it from the taller man; as if that was some weird act of submission. Lewis put Zed on edge in way nobody had ever been able to do. Like his presence was the sharp blade of a knife, Zed scared himself a little in his curiosity to get closer; he’d never had great self-preservation skills.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, accepting it anyway. He quickly snatched the cigarette, avoiding the other’s eyes, instead watching arena lights glinting off the metal spikes of his bracelet.

The moment felt intense all of a sudden, compared to the ecstatic relaxed feeling from moments ago, as they both seemed to soak in each other’s presence.

“Are you going to the bar after this?” Lewis asked, looking interestedly at Zed, who felt eyes on him; serving to rattle his nerves further. Zed felt his eyebrows tighten together a little, looking up and instantly regretting it when he saw the hooded amber eyes looking back at him; feeling his skin crawl with their intensity.

“Depends,” Zed replied, feeling a little more confident as his voice thankfully sounded unshaken. He brought the cigarette to his mouth, placing it between his lips, as he held his hand out for Vikke passing him the lighter.

“Oh yeah?” Lewis asked raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow, snatching the expensive metal lighter from Vikke’s hand and instantly flicking it on; bringing the flame closer to Zed’s face.

“On what?” he breathed out softly, though Zed heard it louder than he should have considering their surroundings, Lewis knew he had the punks full attention. Zed felt like he wasn’t really breathing, just running on automatic. Almost like an out-of-body experience, he watched Lewis light the end of the tar stick in his mouth and felt himself breathe in the toxic fumes. Their intense steel gazes locked together, both unable to look away.

“On what you’re doing afterwards,” Zed replied just as quietly, blowing out a thick wall of smoke into Lewis’ face, a small grin edging onto his face as he saw the other wrinkle his nose up in reaction. He saw Lewis lean away a little, realising he hadn’t been aware they were so close.

Zed heard a cough and flinched a little, turning to see Vikke. He’d kind of forgotten he was stood there.

“I- uh, didn’t know it was like that,” he stated, shocked.

“I think I saw Yumil,” Vikke says, beginning to back away and give the pair some obviously needed space, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

Zed panics at the thought of being alone with Lewis, he wasn’t sure he could control himself. He had always been the type of guy to just live in the moment and do whatever felt natural; damn the consequences. But something deep inside his hindbrain told him Lewis was not someone he should get involved with. Zed really didn't want to admit it was he was scared. Scared of this weird dominant magnetism Lewis seemed to have over him.

“I thought you needed a ride home?” Zed panics, knowing it was pointless from the way his heart pounded in his chest with excitement.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vikke deadpanned,

“Lewis,” he said, unsubtly nodding to him in the fashion close friends do when they both know they’re going to get some, then he smirks at Zed and walks off into the thinning crowd.

The instant he’s gone Zed feels his skin prickling and finds Lewis up in his personal space again, towering over him by a couple of inches. Zed’s never felt so small and filled with such a rush.

“Wanna get out of here?” Lewis asks, even though the proud glow to his eyes tells them both that decision has already been made for them. As much as Zed would love to fuck him off and leave him stood alone here feeling embarrassed, he knows they both want this as much as the other. So instead he compromises and burns out the end of his cigarette on the leather jacket Lewis seems to love so much. Watching angry flames flicker in the other’s eyes is enough satisfaction to counter-weight Zed’s willing reply.

“I’d fucking love to.”

They don’t go to either of their apartments. Together they walk to the after-party at the bar, talking about small things, but neither of them are listening. The tension becoming impossibly thicker between them. They sit at the bar stool, Lewis tells him he’s in a band. And that was about as much information Zed could take or bother to remember, in his inebriated state of mind. It was all he could take after too many side-long glances and Lewis’ hand sliding higher on his thigh.

He’d pulled Lewis by his worn leather jacket and dragged them out of the rear exit. They’d made out hungrily in the alley against a dumpster, Zed unashamedly getting rock hard in his pants. His world reduced to Lewis’ sharp teeth biting his neck and marking his collarbone, the smell of dry ice and whiskey completely overwhelming him like a drug. Lewis jerks him off and he comes way too fast, the other’s long black nails scratching him rhythmically against the skin by his pubic hair. A more dignified person would have been mortified, but this was Zed and he was way too drunk to care. He tries to return the favour but Lewis just smiles down at him, trapping him against the bricks and the metal bin, his expression defining wickedness and sin. 

Zed feels himself melting in the afterglow, with his drunk head spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah...when I first planned this (like 20 million years ago ha), I had written it for them to take it slow, then I realised that Lewis and Zed are the exact type of people who would not take ANYTHING slow ahaha. 
> 
> THANK YOU. For kudos and comments etc, because it's such a small fandom any means of support do encourage me a lot
> 
> u - u So thank you. Hopefully I will write more over Easter c: Hope this chapter is as good as the first! Also yeah they're both jerks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully from here on out there will be an improvement on my writing as these are chapters I've written now as opposed to chapter's I'm posting/tweaking from when I wrote them years ago |: ANYWHO; enjoy!

“So you didn’t even go home with him?”

“Fuck. No, Mariska, I fucking told you already,” Zed snaps back, leaning against the wall to the right of his friend.

“Can we not talk about it, ok? I’m only here because you promised me free coffee,” he continues, clutching at his forehead and rubbing a little, the hangover already beginning to make itself known.

“Yeah. And the only reason I texted you is because I’m bored as shit here today,” the black-haired woman replied, nevertheless rolling her thickly lined eyes and turning to the coffee machine.

Zed just knotted his eyebrows together, moving his hand and looking around the small café.

“Jose not working today?” he asks, only half-interested in the answer.

“He hasn’t dragged his fat ass out of bed yet,” Mariska replies as the loud mechanised sound of the coffee maker starts up.

“Or at least, that’s why I assume he’s not answering his phone,” she yells over the noise, making Zed grimace a little with all the abusive volumes hurting his sore head. He quickly scopes out the amount of patrons in the place. He spots a couple by the window, a trio of students and two young entrepreneurs up at the breakfast bar. Not bad, considering it was only 10am and Mariska was the only one working.

Mariska had bought the place just over five years ago now, somehow she’d turned the ramshackle old tea shop into a business. She’d re-painted and decorated it herself after her own aesthetic. The walls were dreamy bright colours, bean bags and puffy cushions dotted around like a gypsy’s caravan. Most of the furnishings were wooden and worn, including the coffee bar and display counters lined with homemade cakes. All in all, the buisness has a rustic free spirited air about it. It was a bit too…soft for Zed’s personal taste but it was every inch an extension of Mariska, so he found the place at least comforting. The café wasn’t exactly teeming with customers but it was never empty either. The cafe was coasting, for lack of a better word, coasting albeit with a healthy amount of customers. But apparently that seemed to suit Mariska. If anything, she hated rush hours and the waves of young hipsters who seemed to increasingly blow in through the doors.

Suddenly the noise stops and Mariska is walking towards him with a steaming mug of black coffee. Zed takes the mug, cursing a little when he burns his hands on the sides. His friend snorts at his impatience and thrusts a pot of white sugar with a small spoon into his free hand.

“No takeaway cups?” Zed grunts, frowning at the large orange mug in his hand, painted with colourful uneven swirls and love-hearts. He leans off the wall and goes to take a seat at one of the nearby wooden tables, placing the items down on the surface before pulling out the chair.

“God, Zed, you are such an asshole,” he hears the other’s voice as he sits down, the chair lined with a cushion in it’s hand-crocheted case (one of Mariska’s hobbies – he’s never really questioned it).

“Whatever,” he hears himself say automatically, slumping down and spooning sugar into the mug of coffee.

Suddenly the chair opposite is pulled out and Mariska sits herself down opposite him. Zed can only see her from the chest down, focussing on stirring the four sugars into his drink.

“Sometimes I wonder why I bother being nice to you,” she says casually, but they both know she doesn’t mean it; they’ve been friends since childhood. They’re like family to each other. Close in a way only brother and sister can be.

“Yeah well, maybe I would enjoy the free coffee more if I didn’t have to drink it while getting twenty fucking questions from you,” he snaps, quickly sipping on the coffee and burning his tongue with a yelp.

Mariska just watches him and leans her chin in one hand, her bronze bracelets falling down her arm and clinking against each other.

“C’mon, I’m just curious,” she presses, her lips pulling up into a smile as Zed wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before finally meeting his blood-shot eyes with her own.

“Oh, ok, you really wanna know?” he growls, raising his arms before dropping them at his sides.

“We went to a bar, drank whiskey, I remember some shots, some smoking and him jerking me off in a back alley,” Zed’s voice is loud and a few metres away the couple by the window are giving him a shocked look. Zed shows his teeth and snarls, giving them the finger.

“Zed!” Mariska thunders, smacking his hand down.

“What?” he roars just as loud. If Mariska was going to invite him into her god damn café, she should know exactly what she’s getting herself in to.

The woman in question merely narrows her eyes threateningly and Zed purses his lips, muttering under his breath. Before returning his attention to the mug of coffee. He knew that look. He also knew better than to mess with Mariska. He can hear the couple over by the window talking about them, feel their judging gaze. Neither of them really care, like hell either of them are going to apologise, but he supposes he’ll attempt to keep it PG for the good of the café.

The young woman looks around, checking her surroundings before leaning over the table towards Zed.

“That all?” she half-whispers, her amber eyes wide with curiosity as Zed looks up to meet them. The punk sighs, she could never resist gossip.

“Yes, ok?” he breathes, tasting his stale breath lined with last nights booze. He rubs the back of his head.

“Well…” he starts,

“I remember he left me, before we could do anything else,” Zed continues, pinching his nose a little and trying to piece bits together.

“But honestly, shit, that’s all I got. I mostly browned out, I couldn’t tell you what he said to me, or how I got home,” he finishes, hoping that will satisfy Mariska’s curiosity with an exhausted sigh, like recalling those hazy details had completely taken it out of him. Opposite him the long-haired woman snorts a little,

“Shit Zed, I’d leave too if you took me to a back alley,” she says, slightly disappointed in the lack of information she’d managed to glean from Zed. Though honestly she wonders why she ever expects anything more of him than brown-outs.

“That’s gross, man, even for you,” she supplies, removing herself from the seat opposite, tucking the chair back under while, as if by magic, another two students walk in through the door. She’d always had that weird kind of sixth sense. Zed observes his friend making her way over behind the display counter, black hair swaying about her bare hips in low-slung jeans.

The punk absently takes another sip of his coffee, finding it was beginning to cool at last. Zed hadn’t particularly _wanted_ anything more from Lewis, hell, in that moment before the alley the only thing he was thinking about was getting some friction to his dick. Which he had, so really it could be considered a success; screw Mariska. Who was she to judge? She’d banged some guy in a porta-loo. _That_ , was gross. Zed felt himself smirking, he was never going to let that one go.

Slowly his mind wandered inevitably back to Lewis, a warm hand absently tracing up his neck over phantom bites. Initially he had been uncharacteristically embarrassed about being abandoned against the dumpster. However he’d had a few more hours of drinking and come to realise in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. Or at least that’s the mantra he chanted to himself every time the feeling of Lewis’ rejection flared up inside him.

The punk angrily drinks down a mouthful of coffee, enjoying the burn on the back of his throat. It wasn’t fair, Lewis was the one who had come on to him; _twice_. If anything it should have been Zed who had the power to reject him, not the other way around. Zed felt his mind reeling trying comprehend what the other man’s game could possibly have been. Maybe he just wanted to mess with him; in which case he was the one who succeeded.

Zed winces; ‘ _It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter’._ And it really doesn’t. It only seems like a big deal now, in a few weeks – maybe even days – he will probably have forgotten about the whole thing. It’s probably Mariska’s fault, forcing him to remember things for her that he’d really rather forget.

“Hey, Zed!”

The red-head feels himself jump and the coffee in his hands spills over the edge a little as he jolts; he knows that high-pitched voice. He slowly looks up to find the young blonde waitress stood beside him.

Zed sneers and makes a small grunt in acknowledgement. Honestly the peppy part-timer was too much of a headache to deal with in the rare instances he was sober; he really didn’t feel like having a conversation with her right now.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her blue eyes glowing brightly as she holds on to her backpack handle that she’s currently one-strapping over her shoulder. Zed wrinkles his face up in pure irritation and gestures with his hand to the coffee,

“The fuck does it look like I’m doing? And what the hell is this? Seriously, I’m hanging out of my ass right now, can’t you all leave me the fuck alone?” he snaps viciously, feeling his hangover throb.

Above him Juliet’s brows crease into a frown,

“You’re always so rude to me! If you don’t want me to talk to you, that’s fine, but you don’t have to go and be a big dick about it,” she retorts angrily, tapping her foot a little on the floor in her long brown boots.

“Fine!” Zed gasps out, making comic shooing motions with both hands,

“Get lost then; I don’t want to talk to you!” he says, before slumping back on the table and forcing more coffee down his throat; the sooner he finishes this and gets out of here, the better.

“Fuck you,” Juliet growls out quietly near Zed’s ear, to which the punk snaps back a sarcastic ‘ _Thank you’_ , before drinking more from his oversized mug. He knew he shouldn’t have come here today, but he also knew it was unlikely he’d ever be able to resist things offered to him for free.

He glances over again to the counter where Mariska is cashing money for the students order, giving Juliet a friendly wave as she passes by to deposit her belongings through the small kitchen. Zed absently wonders what he’s going to do today. Being unemployed sometimes had its perks, but more often than not Zed found himself in a perpetual state of boredom. Maybe he’d borrow Mariska’s laptop and look for odd jobs online, it was getting closer to the point where he needed a cash injection; especially as his rent was overdue.

He’d never been able to hold down a single job for much longer than a year; monotony did not suit him well. Though Mariska had offered multiple times for him to work at her café, honestly the idea of spending his entire week here was off-putting. He couldn’t stand being around the customers here, and couldn’t bear the thought of having daily conversations with the people who worked here. Juliet namely; but there was also this really weird kid from the same school. None of them knew his real name, he just kept insisting they called him Swan and paid him in cash, to avoid personal information. They’d all just figured it was going to be one of those things they’d never actually know. He never really smiled or talked much either, but he did the work and he was able to put up with Mariska, Josey and Juliet; so really he checked out the most important criteria that many other part-timers had not.

Again as if on cue, Mariska’s voice chimed in,

“Hey Zed, would you mind hopping in the kitchen for a couple hours?” she pleaded, shooting him her best puppy dog eyes (which were more akin to a she-wolf),

“Got word in on Josey; he’s taken a trip outta town, won’t be back til the afternoon. I’ll pay you of course,” she continued, rubbing her fingers together with the free hand she wasn’t using to lean on the counter.

Zed groaned loudly, slumping bonelessly in his chair.

“Come on, not like you had anything better to do,” Mariska presses, raising an eyebrow at Zed’s behaviour,

“All right fine!” he snapped angrily, knowing Mariska was right. He jerked up out of his chair sharply, striding over to the kitchen with mug in hand, towards his smiling friend.

“Great!” Mariska smiles, handing him a small square of paper and Zed wondered if this was the true reason she'd told him to meet her here.

“Here’s your first order,” she grins, patting him roughly on the head, which Zed really does not appreciate right now. He grunts out a small protest, flinching out of her reach and into the small kitchen. Where he finds Juliet, changed into a pink dress-shirt and short skirt, tying her apron around her tiny waistline. She looks up as Zed plonks his coffee down on the counter, grabbing Josey’s massive dirty apron from where it’s hung near the door.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” she addresses Zed smugly and the other instantly regrets taking Mariska up on this offer, but he quickly forces himself to think of the money.

“Shut up,” he snarls, he wants to add an insult but with Juliet he’s more careful because she’s under 20. Or at least he thinks she is. She’s still at school anyway. Zed isn’t going to be that one guy who shits on high-schoolers; even he’s above that.

“Hey, you have to make me breakfast!” she snaps back, advancing a few steps on Zed to find her pointing a finger, frowning near his face. He laughs a horribly fake laugh.

“Like fuck I do?” he breathes out, flipping her off and moving past her to turn on the kitchen’s gas.

“Uhm, actually you do. Whenever I’m in before lunch Josey normally makes me breakfast; it’s a thing we do around here. Not that you’d know anything about common courtesy or having co-workers,” she says bitterly, folding her arms while Zed continues to ignore her, flipping the gas switch.

“If you hadn’t noticed, Josey’s not here today and I ain’t doing shit that I’m not being paid for,” he retorts back, pinning the order up over the stove and grabbing pans from the above rack. He’s covered for Josey and previous chefs many, many times before; he knows where everything is, he’s basically the café’s reserve chef.

He hears Juliet stamp her feet in irritation, before the footsteps are marching out of the kitchen.

A distant shout of, “ _Mariissskaaaa!”_ causes him to sigh and he walks over to the fridge. Thankful to find a leftover pancake mixture from the day before, he grabs it and returns to the stove, grabbing an extra pan to make some for Juliet. He’d rather just do it now than get his ass kicked by Mariska.

After he’s poured out the mixture, he leans back on the kitchen counter, taking another mouthful of coffee. He absently keeps an eye on the pans making sure the food doesn’t burn.

There’s worse ways to spend his day he decides and, hey, at least he’s earning money. Though his hungover brain throbs and Lewis keeps moving through his thoughts, trying to piece last night back together; eventually the lunch rush begins and he’s kind of grateful for the distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a filler chapter really, sorry about that but I just wanted to introduce Juliet and kind of establish my Zed a bit more, especially his relationships to Mariska and Juliet. Also at some point I feel like I'd have to mention where they all work and I just totally imagine Mariska owning a stereotypical vegetarian/vegan friendly coffee shop/cafe type deal?! I wanted to establish the general vibe of the cafe too, because I feel like I will definitely be using it in the future (: ALSO!!!!! IF ANYONE KNOWS HOW OLD AMERICAN HIGH-SCHOOLERS ARE?! Cause I'm British lol. I have no idea what age they leave to go to college, is it 18????
> 
> Sorry for the slow updates but I literally forgot my old plan for the plot & chapters lol so I've had to make a new one and hopefully like I said above there should be (HOPEFULLY) a noticeable increase in quality? As I'm writing these ones now as opposed to posting what I had written 3 years ago lol. 
> 
> ANYWAY: til next time: as usual, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, as everyone who uses ao3 will know c: thank you for reading~


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